


Either save me, or save yourself from me

by Tidalstep



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Falling In Love, I need help clearly, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Other, Poems, Suicidal Thoughts, Trigger Warnings, also the character death isn't major or constant it varies, feelings haha, my writing, so OOC Lance I guess, this is just a lot of self insert sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tidalstep/pseuds/Tidalstep
Summary: hahahahaha here come dat boi with a comp of all my poems that I'm saying is Langs bc I'm basically Lance haha whoops uh sorry? Anyways, just think that Lance writes poems and songs and shit on occasion and he has them all in this one digi journal that Pidge made. This is gonna be that digi journal. The love ones can be taken as Klance bc my bf is Keith p much and I love him. Enjoy.





	1. Hear Me

Hear me.  
You claim to hear me screaming, but why? Why can you hear me screaming when I silence it with white lies and cover my tears up with a façade of laughter and pasted smiles?  
Are you sure you hear me screaming? Hear me screaming out loud in the deepest parts of my mind never to surface out loud even if it's all I hear in my ears, it's like they're filled with water that I can't shake out and it makes my vision cloudy and my sentences slurred into what I think is the truth when really it's all a lie.  
Is it me screaming you hear or is it really the screech of car tires as you stop it hastily, seeing my blood covered lifeless body in a pool of tar in the rear view mirror, getting out only to find I'm not there but in the back seat crying.  
The car locks and its silenced. I'm in there screaming, but I'm also out there telling you I'm okay.  
I'm screaming out of fear, anger, desperation, despair, everything that I can to get someone to notice, but you don't and never do.  
You don't hear me screaming, you hear me laughing at my innermost self that's crumbling apart, you see this fake me I've sent out to fool you because if I'm discovered for who I really am, I'll never be able to go back.


	2. Here resides a boy

/Here resides a boy/

Here resides a boy with fog in his eyes and screams in his mind, using the dull static of music to drown out any and all possible pain. 

The demons in his mind are wielding jagged knives coated in the words of many that said he was unworthy and a mistake. 

They cut at the layers of his sanity and slice through his subconscious as if it were warm butter, feeding him a negative spiral that always returns at his next lonely breath. 

He bangs his head against the wall in a pointless effort at getting his mind back, trying to regain control of his thoughts and feelings. 

Silencing the ringing in his ears, he looks down at his wrist, covered in fading scars from cuts caused by fear of not feeling. 

He locks the bathroom door and breaks the razor to release the blade, whispering to himself as he writes down some last notes of condolences to the ones who didn't hurt him. 

He takes the razor and cuts down his skin, blood dripping onto the floor, his tears mixing in, making a small puddle of pain and sorrow. 

One, he's screaming, two, he's still bleeding, three, getting dizzy, four, someone's opening he front door, five, can't even hear his own cries. 

Six, getting dizzy, seven, he can only see red, eight, everything is fuzzy, nine, he can't hear his own thoughts, ten, he's about to slip from existing. 

Here lay a boy in a pool of his sorrow, never going to see another tomorrow, all because he gave himself into the inner torment, his last words being "Finally, I can breathe." 

/Here sits a boy writing this piece, hoping that you’ll listen to him for just a moment when he says you don’t have to be the next boy in this story. You can make it there will be better days ahead, it’s not always sunshine and daisies, but it’s not always a cold cut and tears. Things will get better, I promise./


	3. Please help me

Please help me.  
I’m suffering, somebody please help me.  
I can’t breathe, I can’t see, I can’t hear.  
It hurts.  
It hurts.  
I’m breaking.  
Please don’t leave me alone, I’ve always been alone, I don’t want to be alone.  
My chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe, I just want to scream, scream, SCREAM, LET ME SCREAM LET ME CRY LET ME FEEL HOW I’M SUPPOSED TO.  
Please.  
I’m breaking.  
I'm being honest,  
I don’t want her to die.  
I don’t want them to hate me.  
I feel like they don’t love me even though I rely on them.  
I want to feel loved, to feel capable of love.  
I just want someone to hold me.  
Please.  
Save me.


	4. Homesick

Having been told since the day I was old enough to comprehend the words, I was always contemplating the truth of the phrase “home is where the heart is”, never really understanding what it meant to me.  
Home was where I lived, with my family, with my room and all the things that remind me of the things I've done in it.  
Home was arguments with my siblings, but still being there for them when it counted because despite the yelling I adored them.  
Home was baking cookies with my mother and singing along to anything and everything with my father.  
Home was the place of which was most recognizable to me, with the people who loved me and were there for me.  
In the dull void that is space, many light years away, I can't seem to remember the last time I went running in the sand with my youngest siblings.  
I'd rather miss them than forget them entirely, I'd rather close my connections off than try to make whatever this is my new home, my new family.  
How can anyone expect me to consider this dark, cold, quiet, and empty metal box “home”, especially when my heart is far from it.  
I don't want this dark cascade of loneliness, I want my mother's hugs, and the loudness of my siblings. I want to be where I placed myself, not have to get used to this.  
I want to go home.


	5. Break

[Break] 

He's taken the chance to dive underwater, risking the possibility of never coming back up for proper air. 

He floats under in a mindless haze, sinking to the bottom and shooting up to the surface, hoping it'll break. 

The thing about water is, you think that when you rise you're free, but that's a painful, cruel lie. 

You're trapped in it, submerged in a pocket of unbreathable air, and when you reach out past it, the surface just stretches and encases you like thin rubber. 

That's exactly what kills him, the belief that when he rises he'll be able to breathe, but the reality that hits him is that he's suffocated by a wall he didn't know was there. 

It's the same with our minds; the same with the crushing pain that is living. 

We submerge ourselves in our thoughts, emotions, and insecurities, then try to escape, only to be stopped by the thin yet unbreakable wall we put up to keep it all locked away from everyone but ourselves. 

Despite the claims of never wanting it to, for fear of the reaction towards what lies beneath it being laid out in an ocean of ourself, we all really want to breathe. 

We all really, desperately, want that last thin wall, to break.


	6. 1 Am Dreams

[1 Am Dreams]

Some people like long, quiet drives down an empty road, with only their thoughts as company. 

Others like long walks, whether it be on a beach, through a field, or aimlessly around their neighborhood. 

Select few like listening to music in the comfort of their own home, maybe reading a book or staring out at the sky. 

Everybody has their ways of clearing their mind, just having a chance to breathe, but for me, I don't want any of that. 

I want to sit, at 3 am, with calm melodies playing out in open air, sitting in a vast field, with someone I love, talking about anything, getting the chance to breathe, and just feel free for even a moment. 

Nothing loud, or active, or crowded, or confined. Just us, the soft sounds of acoustics in the air, staring up at the stars for hours. 

That pure moment of blissful serenity has always been a dream, a silent plea in the after hours of the night. 

That's something I crave, and have yet to find another who is willing to give it to me. 

 

Everybody has their way to be able to breathe, some just need the right person.


	7. Nightmares, night terrors, inner torment.

[Nightmares, night terrors, inner torment] 

I engrave a mark on my conscience with a blade of self deprecation, watching as thick rivets of sadness laced blood fall down and create a little river of insecurities in my mind. 

I walk atop the crimson waters, gliding like feather with each careful step, trying to avoid the cracks in the stone masks I'm stepping on to cross to a better part of myself. 

That dream is short lived as the masks break and I fall into the river, drowning, taking in breaths of watery insecurity, suffocating on the sharp edges of hurt that got into the murky waters. 

I'm carried away and end up washed up on an island, soon finding out that it's inhabitants are my inner selves. 

Every single inner emotion, even the darker ones, are cursing me for leaving them stranded here, locked away from the rest of me. 

I sob, since they're all just too much, I can't handle all of me and all of what lies within me, who I am as a whole. 

I avoided them and locked them on this island to keep myself from breaking apart, but there they stood, staring at me. 

I'm not given the chance to apologize, before I can even catch my breath, the sand beneath my feet sucks me in and carries me down into a cave. 

The cave, I soon learn, is a representation of my soul. Empty, cold, with a hint of an underlying comfort I have yet to seek out. 

I'm walking in the cave, taking in this new part of myself, when I'm met with a door. The door leads into a room, and after entering, I turn around and the door is gone. 

Solitude, is what this is. A blank, pure white room, that’s not inhabited by anyone besides myself. 

The walls close in and I'm back in the river, tied down by depression, struggling to the surface, struggling to break free from the chains of my inner torment, and before I can drown, I'm shaking, sitting in a corner, watching as my mind resumes flowing. 

The river is still dotted with the masks I put up, my inner selves are still on their island, and I'm still on the darker side of my mind. 

I'm awake, in my room, and putting on a thin sheet of lies and a smile, before getting up and never mentioning the things I see in my head. 

After all, a nightmare is just a nightmare, and a night terror of myself isn't much to dote on. 

The cycle continues, and I carry on.


	8. Buttercups

/Buttercups/

She was always fond of flowers, her favourite being buttercups. Despite them being incredibly toxic to people, she adored them. 

She planted them in her back garden the week she moved into her new house, her house mates from college asking her why. 

Her only reply was, "If you're patient, then all answers will be revealed." 

So, they waited, the girl going about her days at school, smile always on her face, yet there was something hidden in her eyes. 

Nobody noticed it, but deep inside, the girl was in pain, as most are. She ate away at herself, pushing herself to look happy, before she gave away her secrets. 

The following week, the girl was found by her housemates, laying in the patch of buttercups she had planted, they littered both the ground and her mouth. 

It was almost beautiful if not for the fact that she, despite smiling, was forever gone. Next to her was a letter, encased in a yellow envelope. 

The letter read this:

Buttercups have always been my favourite flower. I was always asked why I adored them so. 

Despite popular belief, it wasn't because I liked how they looked, I liked that despite how cheerful and happy they seemed, they were toxic, probably suffering, and would wilt at some point. 

I associated myself with them, because while I may have seemed happy, inside I was trying not to scream and scratch at my arms so they bled. 

I was toxic, not just to the world, but to myself. 

In order to ensure nobody would take it upon themselves to try and help me, I helped myself to my beloved buttercups. 

I wrote this letter in hopes that you won't dwell on me too much, since I did this on my own accord. 

My last request, is that you bury me in a field of buttercups, since I feel that's the only place I'll be able to rest easy. 

That's where the note ended, now covered with the tears of her friends. 

As requested, she was buried, mourned, and soon forgotten. 

One thing stayed with those friends of hers though, never to fade throughout their lifetime. 

Buttercups.


	9. I love you

[I love you] 

You and me were as close as can be, two peas in a pod, the best friends each other could ask for. I thought I was fine with just that, until I noticed everything about you threw me off in more ways than one. 

Your smile is brighter than the sun in the summer, radiating beams of light all around you and shining on me, a soft warm heat flushes my cheeks and I realise it's not just because of the warmth of your smile. 

Your laughter fills the room like a soft melody, a song that I can play for decades on repeat and never get tired of it. It was then that I almost tripped. 

A year goes by, I've been wandering around, had a few bumps in my path but got past, you by my side every step of the way, straying a bit from me, but never too far away. 

At some point though, it seemed as if our paths began to merge into one long road, and before I knew it, I was caught under the soft gaze of your eyes, lips turned up in that blinding smile, and was on the ground faster than I could process it. 

I fell for you, hard, and before I had the chance to comprehend it, I look back and see you staring at me from the ground where you lay beside me. 

We're now hand in hand, walking down this path, some bumps may come by, but we're always there to help the other stay steady and keep on moving. 

I'm so in love with you, if I had the power to I would travel to the stars and bring them all down, lay them in the ocean for you so that we can swim together in a blue haze of light and love. 

Not a single day goes by where you aren't on my mind, and the only thing I hope is that one day we'll be able to say that we made it this far, and we'll travel together still down that path. 

It's terrifying, being in love, all this anxiety swirls inside me, like a whirlpool of worry that I'll do something wrong or we just won’t fit together after a while, that one day instead of yin and yang, a perfect balance between us, something throws us off too far apart to ever try to get it back again. 

All I can do is walk beside you, hand snug in yours, and just see where this crazy, stupid, intoxicating yet wonderful love takes us, and I'm not changing that for anything. 

I love you so much, that the only way to express it properly is to squeeze your hand just a little tighter, look at your smile just a little longer, let my gaze grow ever fonder, as I walk down this road with you.


	10. Melody, harmony, out of key.

/Melody, harmony, out of key./

Did you ever love me as much as I thought you did? 

You claimed to like me and my company, but I can't help but feel that was the biggest lie you'd ever told. 

We were young and 13, living our lives as two angst riddled teens, listening to bands and complaining about our failed romance and how much we hate our families. 

We sang along to My Chemical Romance and decided we worked in harmony, our emotions creating a melody, but I had yet to realize that we were way out of key. 

I was tone deaf to the possibilities of you hurting me, and you were blind to the sheet of music laid before us, so we tried to play a symphony but didn't match key.

We were wild and 16, still trying to play in harmony, when my ears became unclogged of the lies I fed myself and heard how far away from me you really were. 

Whatever string that was once there was cut when we switched from My Chemical Romance to Birdie and A Tribe Called Quest, trying to match two songs at the same time instead of a working mix of the two. 

Your blindfold came off when you said “I love you” and didn't mean it, and you knew you didn't mean it. 

“I love you” 

“I want you” 

“I need you” 

Lies, lies, lies. 

I lied to myself for too long, so I took my sheet music, headphones, guitar and any part of myself you couldn't take away from me, and left. 

You didn't try to stop me. 

That hurt me for a while, since I thought maybe, just maybe, I was more than that. 

I guess not. 

Now I'm sitting in a room with soundproof walls, recording a new story with the person who opened my eyes to the light, and didn't try to drown me out with a bad bass line. 

We sing in harmony, creating soft melodies, recording our feelings in songs for our love. 

You played me out of key, I thought you were everything to me. 

Now I know, I'm more than just a dull beat, I'm a symphony, and you're not even the background melody to my song. 

I found my voice, I found my melody, I found my tempo to carry me, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

The answer is no, you didn't love me, but I found someone who does, and that's all that matters to me.


	11. Silent

Silent 

Another dawn, another day, another chance to tell you what I'm thinking, but since I would rather hear you babble than say anything, I stay silent. 

Another text, another word, another chance to be heard, but how do I express this? I have no idea, so I stay silent. 

Another fight, another restless night, I keep trying but to no avail, I never know what to say, so I stay silent, but you don't like that. 

Another whisper, another cry, another complaint that I don't seem interested, when really the highlight of my day is listening.

Another text, and now a call, I was doing well, not silent at all. That's what I thought, but clearly you see, I'm just a shell of my older me. 

Another argument, another "read", turns out I wasn't improving my social skills as much as I thought I did. 

Another tear, another insecurity, what if you think I don't like you at all and just leave? All because I was silent. 

Another day, another week, god fucking damn it why can't I speak?! 

WHY IS IT SO DAMN HARD TO SAY WHAT I WANT?! I CAN'T EVEN TALK ABOUT THE THING THAT MADE ME HAPPY WITHOUT SOUNDING BORED! 

Another text, another try, again I don't know how to communicate, so, I stay silent.


	12. Nocturnal Blues

[Nocturnal Blues]

It's 15 minutes to midnight, and you rest heavily on my mind, clouding my thoughts with images of your butterscotch eyes and lazy smile. 

I look to the empty space beside me and a wave of nostalgia washes over me and pulls me under, projecting images of you there, eyes hazy with lust, hair ruffled from sleep, lips slightly wet from kissing me. 

Tears fall down my cheeks, as our last encounter attacks my thoughts. I hear the sounds of your screams echo in my head, the look of pure rage and pain on your face seemingly right there before me, and I cry. 

The place in my bed is now empty and cold, the glass of my heart is shattered, somewhere inside me just feels dead, and there's a pain in my chest. 

We never would've worked, had I said "I'm sorry" everything would've played on repeat and ended up the same in the end. Your smile only lasted so long until it was a scowl of disgust. Your soft eyes went from adoring to cold hard hate as the time ticked by with us. 

While the tears stained my pillow, I didn't notice the slight sink of my mattress, and the warm heat next to me, petting my hair and saying "I'm here, it's alright now. You're fine." 

I kiss my love on the lips, bury my head in their chest, and let myself rest. 

You still come around every now and again, but with this soft reassurance that I have, you don't stay for long, and don't hurt me like you once had. 

I'm doing better now, and it's for the best that the only one who knows that is the one who I cuddle up to at night. 

It's 12 am, and I am breathing steady once again, mind now clouded with images of me and my love, and I sleep, feeling safe and warm for once.


	13. Kids

The kids on the streets can't rise to their feet under the crushing oppression of the adults that disown and devalue and diminish them and everything they think they have a chance at being.   
We wanted to grow up to be heroes and doctors and firefighters, we had dreams, but those dreams were shut down by the age of 13 with the words “you're not talented enough”.   
We held our heads high, tried not to cry, but really we're all breaking apart inside at the crushing thoughts of “if I'm not good enough at that then what can I do?”   
By the age of 15 we focus more on an A in class than the music we used to love writing, the stories we shared, the art that inspired us because of course none of those were good enough.   
Any little girl of colour immediately despised it when they were hit with the reality that being different means you don't belong to the rest of this corrupt society.   
Little boys of colour are terrified of the world and what it holds, without a clue on how to handle it.   
Any and all LGBT kid has to lie and hide and cower in fear over the fact that they might not even have a home anymore if they be themselves freely.   
What the fuck kind of world are we forcing these kids to live in, knowing how hard it was for us it must be just as hard for them, nobody should have to be the older one so young.   
Parents tear us and our hopes down, teachers crush them, other kids burn them, and all we’re left with is a pile of what once was a confident person, now just ash waiting to be carried away by the wind of our own self deprecating words.   
The kids on the streets grow up without the help they need, later losing all knowing that they were once just a kid on the street with an innocent nature and dreams, to be the one to take them away from the next.   
So tell me, when will the kids get their help? When will we stop this if not ever? Can we at least get the proper help for the kids on the street that grew up too quick so as not to do the same to the next?   
The kids on the street struggle to get on their feet, but with help of the healed older ones, they can at least have a head start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Canadian, so the spelling of some words I do differently (ex. Colour, favourite). Just a heads up for that. Also if you havent you should check out my first work Letters if you want haha thanks.


	14. He's Fine

He's being dragged down by the gravity of dissociating from reality, slipping through the borderline of here and far past the afterlife through mortal eyes. 

He trickles down as nothing more than a spirit now in the stream of hazy memories, pooled together with them in an ocean filled with his afterthoughts, the deepest parts taking form as repressed memories, painful and suffocating. 

He's back in his mortal body and suddenly drowning, struggling to swim in the waters that are thicker than the blood he lets flow loosely down his wrists, lungs being invaded and every gasp for breath stings like fire, burning and eating at him from the inside out. 

While being pulled deeper into his memories, he didn't notice when he hit the ground and was surrounded by his own darkness, drowning in them yet not dead. 

This presents itself as a chance, he takes it to push off of the surface of inner reassurance he holds onto, clawing his way up and out of the water, but he was never in water, he was in bed, curled in on himself, shaking and sobbing, and now gasping for air. 

His tears sting the slightly fresh wounds on his arms, mixing with the new and dry blood that stains them, and he takes this as reminder that he's still here, can still feel. 

It was only for less than a minute, but he almost drowned in himself, had he not been granted the stability he developed over time of dealing with this, he would've been gone, unlike the first time he slipped further than one should in their head. 

He's breathing again, wrapping and covering his wounds, both physical and mental, and goes to continue his day. 

If anybody noticed the dullness in his eyes, the carefully conceived mask and disguise, falling apart at the seams, they didn't say anything, and so he continues, bandages only slightly leaking his pain, and mask only slightly cracked, but not yet giving him and his struggles away to those around him. 

He’ll live, for now, as long as his mind lets him, and as long as he holds on to that reassurance without it breaking down, he'll be fine.


	15. Help me

I'm falling in deep   
Still feeling so weak   
Can't get myself out   
Can you hear me screaming now?   
Choking on chains   
Nailed to the floor   
Help me I'm bleeding   
I can't say prayers anymore   
Fallen too deep   
Feeling so weak   
Head in the clouds   
I wanna get better now   
Not cut my wrist   
Hear the screams in my head   
Fall through panic filled traps   
And wind up dead   
Clawing my scalp   
The voice won't go out   
Drowned me in dread   
Says I'm better off dead   
I can't take it can't handle the fear   
Don't know what to do or why I'm still here   
How can someone without purpose find one in this life   
Sooner or later, don't we all die?   
I'm numb and I'm restless this madness is hell   
I'm definitely not okay, why can't you tell?   
How do I love myself when my love has been lost   
Thrown in a void of rejection and fear   
I don't value my life   
I never have before   
I've always hated everything about myself   
I wanna get better but I'm struggling for help   
I can't handle the darkness or the screams and dry tears   
I just want to breathe without panic drawing near   
So help me please save me someone hear my cries   
Or else sooner or later I'll bid you goodbye.


	16. Okay

[Okay]

"Hey, are you okay?" 

I've been asked that question so many times, the only reply I give is the same forced monotone repeat of "yeah, I'm fine, how are you? If you ever need to talk I'm here." 

I'm okay, really. 

Really? 

No, I'm not. 

I don't know what to do with myself, should I scream? Yell? Cry out for help? 

Who would help me? I'm just a selfish prick if I think that my problems are more than the rest, everybody is hurting I'm not the only one, so I shove it away and move on. 

"Hey, are you okay?" 

I ask it, getting the same answer, "yeah, I'm fine, how are you? If you ever need to talk I'm here." 

Lies. I know he's lying to me, I can see it in the dull coloration in his eyes. If he's hurting, why doesn't he ever tell me? 

I don't get it. 

I'm his rational side, the side he can confide him of himself, but he never does. 

We're looking in the camera, talking out loud, "yeah, I'm not okay." 

We talk to each other, but neither pushes the other for answers, we just keep helping others, ignoring our own pain, and seemingly become a different person when around everybody. 

We walk along, but don't know where we're headed, drifting like a leaf in the wind, tattered and torn, ripping out the pages of ourself we don't want to confront and don't want to be found out. 

We're okay, that's the excuse every day. 

He sits inside his head all day, struggling to keep his thoughts at bay, but they're endless chimes of harm towards himself, and no matter how hard he tries he just barely tunes them out. 

"You're worthless." 

"You're weak." 

"You'll never be good enough." 

"Why haven't you just left already?" 

"You know they'll do better without you." 

"You know you can't deny it." 

"If they find out then you'll just be even more worthless." 

"They're all suffering, even more than you, and you have the audacity to think for even a second that maybe, just maybe, they won't hate you for being selfish and talking about it?" 

"Wow, you're dumber than I thought." 

He cries, but on the inside, wipes away the lingering tears, sews back on his smile, and continues on. 

"Hey, are you okay?" 

He repeats, "I'm fine, how are you? If you ever need to talk I'm here." 

So it continues, this vicious cycle that is his life. 

But hey, no one has to know that, now do they?


	17. Feel

[Feel] 

It started with me gripping my arms tighter than need be, nails digging into my skin leaving small crescent shaped intents. 

After that is when it breaks, just like my impulse control. 

It excels into nervous scratches, maybe making the skin a bit red from the contact, but nothing major. 

Next is the constant scratch, scratch, scratch away like I'm trying to get an itch that lies under the surface, but that itch I realize was never physical but a mental block in my head needing something to feel again. 

Then it moves on. 

I go from painful scratches to longer lasting cuts from my purposefully sharp nails, not yet drawing blood but dangerously close to getting there. 

Have I always felt this tired? 

Then it goes from nails to a blade of sorts and dances between the two, both so hard they draw blood. What I thought would let me feel only left me with a moment of solace and an eternity of regret. 

Since when did I resort to this? 

The harm I've done to myself remains buried in the scars left on my skin, the dull pain that hums within my mind whenever I get out of cold waters. 

When did it go from a numb feeling to screaming? 

I don't know what to do with myself anymore, and nobody would care if I told them anyways, so I cover up the damage I've done that I can never take back, and carry on. 

My mind is a war zone that I don't know how I'm still alive in. 

Will it ever be silent enough for me to get some rest? 

Will I ever feel content with myself? 

Who the hell knows, not me that's for sure. 

My harm has been done, I'm left to carry on with that lingering in my head, reminding me of just what I've done, the crime I've committed to myself no matter how good it felt before it was over. 

I'll let the scream echo in my head as I subject myself to the hazy pull of sleep. 

I'll be fine.


	18. Lying

/Lying/

~   
Lying is something he's always been good at, whether it be about the broken vase or the bruise on his leg that never seems to go away. 

He lies, and lies, and lies, and keeps on lying until he's convinced himself that all his petty acts at covering up his wounds are true, that he isn't as bad off as the rest. 

He lies when asked about the bags under his eyes, saying he just had something better to do, too much work to do, but really it's because of the insomnia that's been tearing him apart for years. 

He lies about the cuts on his skin, stinging from the cold blade of inner torment brought on by self hatred and spiraling thoughts that led him to it, but he can't say that, so he goes for falling in a bush. 

He lies to himself about everything he thinks he is and convinces himself he's not worth anything to anyone, not even himself. 

He lies to his family and friends about how he feels, claiming he's alright and placing on a steel mask, but really that mask is just paper that falls so easily he has to tape it into place with the fear of being found out. 

He lies, until someone said something that made his paper mask burn apart until all that's left is a pile of ash whisked away by the howling winds of anger and despair. 

He lies, until he can't anymore, laying out every truth about himself and his insecurities onto a clean sheet of paper, left behind for any to read, and takes off to the death of his innermost self that's suddenly been thrown out into the middle of the world. 

He lies, when he says he's just going for a walk. 

He lies, when he's telling himself why he should jump. 

He lies, to his very last breath, letting out one truth in a last attempt of forgiveness. 

"I lied, and now I'm sorry, but I'm letting go." 

He lies, deep at the bottom of the lake, lifeless and cold. 

He lied, and despite trying so hard to get everybody else to believe it as a truth, the only one he fooled was himself.


	19. Save (me)

[Save (me)]

My silence leaves me terrified, cold stone lies have me dead inside.

The screaming in my mind won't let me breathe. 

Your violence breaks my piece of mind, please let me go I am petrified. 

I'm drowning I can I barely hear. 

I'm tortured by your words defined by the loneliness I feel inside, now I can't even catch my breath. 

Life has no, no, no mercy for lies like me. 

Life has no, no, no safe place for lies like me. 

No one would save a lie like me. 

Anyone would throw aside a lie like me. 

My feet are chained to the ground, you leave me here safe and sound. 

Help I am losing it. 

My arms still hurt from scratching raw, my voice is gone from screaming out. 

The blood from it won't go away. 

I'm my own enemy not sparing my own life, please help me I can't keep my mind right. 

Life has no, no, no mercy for lies like me. 

Life has no, no, safe place for lies like me. 

No one would save a lie like me. 

Despite these words, my cries of fear, I wonder if someone would care to hear. 

Would anyone help? Would they let me breathe? 

I am a liar and a danger to see. 

I am a liar and a danger to me. 

Life has no, no, no mercy for lies like me. 

Life has no, no, no safe place for lies like me. 

No one would save a lie like me. 

Life has no, no, no mercy for lies from me. 

Life has no, no, no safe place unless I don't lie to me. 

Would anyone save a helpless lie like me? 

Would anyone save... me.


	20. Breathe

Inhale, he holds onto his fears, exhale. It's a cycle. 

His lungs thrive for air, inhale, are they really filling though? No, they're not. 

He has a vice grip reaching for his sanity, but the chains are paper thin and snap on an exhale. 

Is he living? 

Is he dead? 

Wait, is he screaming? 

Is it just in his head? 

Unsure, unsure, unsure, UNSURE. 

Inhale, why doesn't it feel like anything? 

Exhale, was there ever any air entering in the first place? 

Inhale, he feels like an empty shell of a person. 

Exhale, was he ever really free from himself? 

Scratch, scratch, scratch, breathe. 

Countless breaths, static noise cancelled screams, a boy on his own, unable to think clearly. 

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, INHALE, EXHALE. 

JUST BREATHE. 

Just breathe. 

He screams. 

I CAN'T BREATHE. 

Inhale, can't see anymore. 

Exhale, oh… when did he get on the floor? 

Inhale, his lungs are as numb as they've ever been. 

Exhale, not sure what's happening, but everything is fading. 

Inhale, exhale, and he struggles to repeat it again. 

Inhale? 

Exhale? 

Just breathe. 

It's dark, can't feel, breathe. 

He tries. 

It's worse than the last time. 

Inhale, it burns. 

Exhale, he has no more words. 

He can no longer breathe, but that's what he wanted anyways. 

No more numb inhale. 

No more painful exhale. 

Finally free from himself. 

He can breathe.


	21. (Love is infinite, and so are we)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a song hahhhhhhhaaaa

(Love is infinite, and so are we) 

Love me like you've never loved before   
Hold me closer in your shaking arms   
Fly with me into the Milky Way   
Whispering of a love that's here to stay.

You're my Galaxy   
A sea of stars, just for me. 

You're my Galaxy   
A land of light and love, you see 

You're my Galaxy 

Lead us through the stars, just you and me. 

Floating through, unto a new found land   
With oceans so clear, we see the cosmos shine   
Loving you, stardust, I pray you'll always be mine   
So come with me, darling, I'll wash the pain away 

You're my Galaxy   
A sea of stars, just for me 

You're my Galaxy   
A land of light and love you see 

You're my Galaxy 

Lead us through the stars, just you and me. 

Love will lead us through the stars 

Just you and me.


	22. Galaxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter (for now). If you liked it leave a comment I love them all. You can catch me at my main tumblr lmnomo, and my side tumblr creative-lizard. For any other of my media links just ask :)

Galaxy 

It's just you and me, staring out at the void of stars that we now live in. 

I catch a tear that you let slip, and suddenly there's another, and another, and now you can't stop. 

You sob into my shirt, letting out all your built up pain, worry, and insecurities. 

After we part, I notice the concealer you used to cover your freckles washed off. 

I forgot how to breathe for a moment, and then I went and kissed every single one of them. 

You're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen, with stray tears covering your lashes, eyes glossy with a slight sparkle from crying, and a galaxy of freckles on your face. 

You and I live together in the vast expanse that is space, but love, no star, no Milky Way, nothing can compare to the beauty of your freckled galaxy. 

You stop covering your freckles, and I say, with no shame, that you are my stars, my skies, the space I love to be with, and the most beautiful galaxy I've seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is one for me and my bf so Klance yep


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